


Love Potion #2

by LittleLostStar



Series: Your Love is My Drug [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dorks in Love, M/M, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, VictUuri, Victor Nikiforov is Extra, Yuuri attempts to navigate a concert full of awkward white people while extremely high, stoner fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 00:57:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12594452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLostStar/pseuds/LittleLostStar
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged by all successful adults who choose marijuana as their intoxicating substance of choice that a man equipped with a few potent brownies and a high-quality vaporizer can do pretty much anything and it’ll be fun. So when Victor proposes that they get stoned and go to a show, Yuuri is totally down.What an awesome date idea,he beams to himself, blinded by blue eyes and stupid love feelings.Boy oh boy, that Victor Nikiforov, he sure knows how to treat a guy right.They could have gone to seeanything.~This is how it starts, Yuuri. You mumble your way out of an awkward situation fairly early into a good relationship and the next thing you know Victor will be walking down the aisle to a song called “Emoji of a Wave.”





	Love Potion #2

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spookyfoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyfoot/gifts).



> This is somewhat based on true events, in that I went to go see a John Mayer concert while high and I spent most of that time live-blogging it to Discord and crying laughing at all the ridiculous shit I saw with Spookyfoot, which is how we bonded as friends. A lot of Yuuri's reactions are lifted wholesale from my own reactions, though I wasn't there with a romantic partner; a lot of other lines are from Spooky, who helped me brainstorm as a way to pass the time while John Mayer did his thing. It took many months to finally finish, but to be honest I think this might be one of the funniest things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> The Reddit post referenced in this fic is real, though now deleted. 
> 
> For all the John Mayer fans out there: I love you and tease only in jest. <3
> 
> Standard disclaimer, don't smoke weed unless you're of age and it's legal.
> 
> Thank you to Nenya for beta-ing! <3

**(Pre-Show)**

It is a truth universally acknowledged by all successful adults who choose marijuana as their intoxicating substance of choice that a man equipped with a few potent brownies and a high-quality vaporizer can do pretty much anything and it’ll be fun. Yuuri Katsuki knows this to be very true indeed; weed calms his social anxiety, makes all the weird thoughts he normally has seem _completely_ fascinating, makes food taste amazing, and it played a fairly substantial role in initiating his current relationship. So when Victor proposes that they get absolutely ripped and go to a show, Yuuri is totally down. _What an awesome date idea,_ he beams to himself, blinded by blue eyes and stupid love feelings. _Boy oh boy, that Victor Nikiforov, he sure knows how to treat a guy right._

They could have gone to see _anything_.

Seattle is a big city, and a cultural hub for an entire corner of the continent. It is the birthplace of _multiple_ world-changing music genres, and has remained a fundamental part of the North American music scene ever since Kurt Cobain put on a ragged sweater. Any tour that even thinks about going to the west coast is remiss if they skip out on Seattle; it’s a convenient way to attract hipsters from Vancouver and Portland, killing two additional music-fan-filled cities with one stone. The big tech companies in Seattle know their employees, and those with budgets are able to provide comp tickets to pretty much any concert you could imagine—it’s just a matter of asking. M83 _just_ played at the Nectar Lounge; Daveed Diggs’ noise-rap afro-futurism group is coming next week, and Portugal. the Man has an unannounced semi-secret show tonight at the Jewelbox where they’ll be playing their _Evil Friends_ album all the way through. There’s a _Ghostbusters_ -themed burlesque show happening at a local cabaret; hell, there’s at least one shitty kid’s movie playing at the local multiplex. There are so many good places for two good-looking tech industry hipster dudes to go and be stoned in public and enjoy some entertainment.

But no, apparently they couldn’t do _any_ of that. So instead of chilling out in a cramped basement club or an infamously haunted art deco theatre, Yuuri is in the sports arena, overwhelmed with the flashing neon lights of the concession stands and the permeating smell of stale beer and salt, watching a gaggle of women in tight dresses all toss their straight blonde hair as they huddle, babbling excitedly, about John fucking Mayer. And right in the middle of the group—gesticulating wildly and with great emotional gravitas—is Victor, the man Yuuri was pretty sure he loved.

As he looks at Victor squeeing in delight over a fifteen-dollar program (what the _fuck_ , capitalism?), it’s honestly hard for Yuuri to remember what he ever saw in this dork. Aside from his eyes. And his smile. And his hair. And his sexy, sexy brain. And the fact that he puts an ASCII drawing of Snoopy the Dog in the code comments for all the programs he writes and no one seems to have noticed yet.

Okay, so maybe Yuuri’s really into this dork. It still doesn’t excuse the life choices that have brought them to this wretched hive of highlights and spray tans.

The brownies aren’t going to kick in for another half an hour or so, but they smoked up in the alley behind the arena to cover the gap, and Yuuri is absolutely tripping balls on the amount of overdressed white people he can see in this one section of the arena alone. He’d completely forgotten that there were this many WASPs in the Seattle area. _Where do they go, when they’re not at John Mayer concerts?_ he finds himself wondering. _Are they happy? Do they have good sex? Is it missionary only, or are they all secretly kinky? The sales of_ 50 Shades of Gray _definitely provide some context to the puritanical—_

Victor grabs his wrist. “Yuuuuuuuuuri,” he croons, “We’ve got to get to our seats, near Dakota and Virginia. You coming?”

“I...Victor wait,” Yuuri drags his heels, and for a fraction of a second he flashes back to training his childhood puppy not to tug on the leash. “Wait a second. Wait.”

Victor stops and turns, and Yuuri goes weak in the knees from those absolutely dazzling blue eyes. “What is it?”

Yuuri peers around his boyfriend to look at the two blonde women—both apparently named after states, which, _why?_ —who are standing a few feet away, clearly waiting for them. He blushes. “How do you know, uh, well, I mean...which one is which?”

Victor gasps in mock outrage. “Yuuri, how dare you. Are you saying you can’t tell white people apart?”

 

**(Act I: Full Band, Part 1)**

“This is by far the largest concert I've been to in a year, and there are no hipsters,” Yuuri hears himself mumble as they take their seats. “I feel lost.”

The way Victor cracks up would be infuriating if it wasn’t so insultingly handsome. Yuuri’s about to say something else when the lights go down, and his thoughts are obliterated by a wave of screams as the Mayer Man himself struts onstage, up to the microphone.

“Welcome to the Search for Everything. My name is John, and I'll be your tour guide,” he proclaims, to the delighted shrieks of the crowd. Yuuri blinks incredulously, and then keeps blinking, because there’s no goddamn way this is real.

“Victor,” he hisses. “What the fuck is going on?”

Victor has no answer; he’s on his feet applauding and cheering with a level of enthusiasm that is normally reserved for grand romantic gestures, really excellent video games, and any given dog within a 10-foot radius of his person. John Mayer hasn’t even sung a single note and Victor’s already at a 9.2 on the Nikiforov Excitement Scale.

With a sigh, Yuuri sneaks a weed-infused gummy bear candy even though they were going to save them for later. It’s going to be that kind of night.

 

 

 

Chris Giacometti  
  
**Chris Giacometti (8:18pm):** How goes the concert, lover boy?  
  
**Yuuri Katsuki (8:20pm):** This is the worst place to be high at. No one here has ever drunk from a mason jar on purpose.  
  
**Chris Giacometti (8:21pm):** Delightful. How’s Victor?  
  
**Yuuri Katsuki (8:26pm):** JFC he’s singing along to some kind of rap breakdown what the fuck  
  
**Yuuri Katsuki (8:26pm):** Who is this and what has he done with my cool boyfriend  
  
**Chris Giacometti (8:27pm):** Yuuri, I have bad news  
  
**Chris Giacometti (8:27pm):** Victor has never been cool  
  
**Chris Giacometti (8:29pm):** At least you didn’t have to go with him to try and get last-minute tickets to Taylor Swift. He asked every single preteen in front of the venue if they could hook him up. I think we’re now on some sort of list.  
  
**Yuuri Katsuki (8:31pm):** Okay, um, Chris, John Mayer is partially superimposed on a cityscape projection thing. I can see two John Mayers, help  
  
**Chris Giacometti (8:32pm):** I know you know what projection screens are so where is the confusion here?  
  
**Yuuri Katsuki (8:33pm):** This looks like the worst of those Awful Glamour Photo things, like it was made in a nearly-bankrupt mall in 1982  
  
**Chris Giacometti (8:35pm):** Are you going to keep texting me? Because if so I need to put on some popcorn, this is way more entertaining than The Bachelor.  
  
**Yuuri Katsuki (8:36pm):** THERE ARE NOW THREE DISTINCT JOHN MAYERS  
  
**Yuuri Katsuki (8:36pm):** WE HAVE REACHED MULTI-ANGLE PROJECTION AND WE’VE ONLY JUST BEGUN  
  
**Chris Giacometti (8:38pm):** This is the greatest night of my life.  
  
**Yuuri Katsuki (8:39pm):** NO IT MOST CERTAINLY IS NOT

 

A few minutes go by, long enough for the brownies to kick in like a motherfucker, and his phone buzzes again. Yuuri blinks away some weed-fuelled thoughts and discovers that Chris has texted him a link to a Reddit thread, with no explanation.

 _This had better not be My Little Pony porn again,_ Yuuri nearly grumbles out loud, but when the link loads he reads the headline and his eyebrows shoot straight up into his hair.

 

 

> _I[33M] have been lying to my wife[29F] for 8 years. (r/Relationships)_
> 
> _We’ve been married for 6 years and together for 8. I couldn’t ask for a better partner but I kind of fucked up in the beginning with a small thing that has now grown into something bigger. It’s really dumb so bear with me._
> 
> _Basically when we first got together I had a mix tape in my car with John Mayer songs on it. It was my ex-girlfriend’s. My wife found the tape and teased me about liking John Mayer. I didn’t want to tell her that it was my ex’s so I was just like “Yeah I like John Mayer so what”_
> 
> _big mistake_
> 
> _Turns out my wife thought it was the cutest thing ever for an adult male to like John Mayer. She began getting me his music for holidays and she would always play it in the house. I became known as the guy who loves John Mayer in our friend group. I accepted it. I figured, big deal, who cares what music is playing. I figured it would pass and it wasn't really something I thought much about._
> 
> _I guess it began escalating and I didn't really notice. Pretty much every significant moment in my life now coincides with his music. Most of the time when we have sex JM is seducing women in the background. It was playing when I found out my dad died. I got a promotion at work and JM is strumming away in the car stereo._
> 
> _I don't think I can just tell my wife the truth at this point. She walked down the aisle at our wedding to a John Mayer song. I just found out that she bought me surprise tickets to see John Mayer live, and they were very expensive and she also got passes so I could meet him. She was so happy and excited to give them to me and I just feel like this has gone too far. I feel like I'm living a lie but I don't know what to do._

 

Yuuri looks up from his phone and sees Victor singing along with some goddamn song about Georgia (what is it with white people and states?); then, almost as if he has ESP, Victor looks back and flashes Yuuri the most joyful grin imaginable and leans over.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” he says into Yuuri’s ear. “I love this guy so much!”

In that moment Yuuri wishes with all his heart that Chris had sent him Twilight Sparkle smut.

  
**(Act II: Solo Acoustic)**

Yuuri has to admit that for all of John Mayer’s dorkiness, his stage management crew is efficient as hell at changing the sets. A few black-shirted assistants bring a prop bridge out from one of the wings, and the projection screen backdrop lights up with a Japanese garden scene, complete with Mount Fuji, a tea house off to one side, a little river, and a bridge that looks sort of like the one that is now sitting in the middle of the otherwise bare stage. Yuuri pinches himself and yelps at the pain, and can’t decide whether he should be relieved or dismayed that he isn’t dreaming this up.

John Mayer walks back onstage; his face appears on the screen, smack dab in the middle, surrounded by cherry blossoms.

Victor gasps in delight; Yuuri sneaks another gummy bear. By the time this is over he’s going to be so high he probably will hallucinate floating John Mayer heads surrounded by cherry blossoms.

 _Oh jesus fuck if that mental image happens while I’m having sex with Victor I’ll never recover,_ Yuuri realizes. _Listen, Future Yuuri, for the love of god, do not ever think about John Mayer or cherry blossoms in conjunction with sex. Or John Mayer lying provocatively surrounded by cherry blossom petals like in_ American Beauty. _Or John Mayer seductively unzipping a high school letter jacket so that cherry blossoms explode out of his breasts—_

If there’s such a thing as the opposite of an erection, Yuuri has that now.

The Reddit post rises in the back of his brain, like mental bile. _Most of the time when we have sex JM is seducing women in the background._

Yuuri actually swallows a wave of nausea. Here’s the thing: with or without weed, Victor is fucking _ridiculous_ at sex. They barely left his bedroom in the first month that they were dating and they’ve started high-fiving when they manage to bang in less than half an hour, because for the longest time it’s just been _hours_ of really excellent sex, like the rarest type of lovemaking that’s better than the greatest sandwich of all time. Yuuri has all but moved in with Victor at this point, to the eternal delight of Chris. And now it’s all over.

 _John Mayer is going to kill my sex life._ Yuuri can see the Jerry Springer title card now. _Is Jerry Springer even a thing anymore? What if he’s a John Mayer fan too?!_

This is a disaster.

 _Focus, Yuuri. Concert. Boyfriend duties. We can try to wriggle our way out of John Mayer Divorce Court later._ Yuuri raises his chin and puts on his best I’ve-been-listening-this-whole-time-to-this-truly-excellent-musical-event-why-yes-I-do-want-extra-mayonnaise-on-my-hamburger-how-did-you-know expression.

“If I could go back in time and talk to the 21-year-old who wrote this next song, there’s a lot of things I’d say to him,” John Mayer says, and Yuuri grabs Victor’s arm.

“Victor, is he—”

“...he was young, ambitious, didn’t know what was ahead of him...” John continues.

Yuuri’s jaw drops and he squeezes Victor’s arm again. “He is. Oh my god, he is.”

Victor turns around, his expression equal parts annoyed, concerned, and confused.

“...this song got co-opted, and I didn’t want to play it for a really long time...”

“ _No_ ,” Yuuri gasps.

Victor puts the back of his hand against Yuuri’s forehead. “Do you have a fever?”

“Victor. I think John Mayer is talking about himself. In the third person. In this really long-ass song introduction. Please god don’t let it be for the song I think it is.”

“Have some water, please, you’re kinda freaking me out,” Victor whispers, handing Yuuri his water bottle and then turning back to look at the stage. Yuuri obeys sullenly as John Mayer grabs his guitar to start playing, and says:

“...this song is called ‘Your Body is a Wonderland,’ I hope you enjoy.”

Yuuri almost spits water all over the Chad and Brittani in the row below them. He blacks out for two straight minutes due to sheer disbelief, and then is yanked out of his stupor by that voice again:

“Everybody sing with me!” John stops playing, but the audience keeps going, singing the chorus in perfect unison. “ _Your body is a wonderland..._ ”

 _I’m going to be sacrificed to the mayonnaise god tonight,_ Yuuri realizes. _Someone will intone “I don't see colour and it should be equalism, not feminism” before they reach into my chest and rip out my beating heart._

John Mayer never once steps foot on that goddamn bridge.

  
**(Act III: The John Mayer Jazz Trio)**

“That is _not_ jazz,” Yuuri mutters bitterly. “That is _dad rock_. There’s a _difference._ ”

“...Sir, it’s $12.50 for the beers, and you’re holding up the line.”

  
**(Intermission)**

By the time the lights come up, Yuuri has worked himself up into just-this-shy-of actual panicked tears.

“You okay?” Victor asks gently, and Yuuri has to forcefully remind himself not to swoon, or burst out crying.

“I’m good,” he replies with a jovial smile that he hopes doesn’t look too forced. “Want to top up?”

Victor nods. “Are you having fun?”

Yuuri opens and closes his mouth, genuinely unsure of how to answer, so instead he pulls two joints out of the vintage cigarette case that Chris bought him for Lent once (“it’s got little glittery eggs, Yuuri! It was only two dollars! ...What do you mean, there’s no such thing as presents for Lent?”). He jerks his head towards the exit.

“You coming?”

Victor beams. “Of course!” he says, and before Yuuri can pull him away he turns to their concert companions. “Dakota! Virginia! Want to come smoke with us?”

Yuuri internally groans, but he’s not one to be rude, so he says nothing as the two girls—whose names he should probably try to remember, but fuck it—tromp along, giggling and whispering to each other.

Yuuri barely waits for everyone to get outside before he lights up a joint, taking two generous hits for himself before passing it over to Victor. He closes his eyes as the weed hits him, and fantasizes that he’s back home, sprawled on the couch with Victor, playing _Gang Beasts_ together and laughing until they cry. A tiny smile crawls across his lips.

“Here,” Victor says, and Yuuri opens his eyes to see the joint passed to Dakota, or maybe it’s Virginia. Her blue eyes go wide, making the mascara she’s wearing stand out even more against her skin.

“Just like a cigarette, right?” she chips. She takes a long drag and doubles over coughing, nearly dropping the joint.

Virginia, or maybe it’s Dakota, takes the joint from her, eyeing it with a look of thrill and terror. “Oh my _gawd_ ,” she giggles. “I’m so _bad!_ ” Yuuri grabs Victor’s arm she takes a cautious inhale.

“By the way, for the record: that,” he points, “is what getting high for the very first time looks like.”

Victor lovingly punches his shoulder. “Jerk,” he grins.

  
**(Act IV: Full Band, Part 2)**

“It’s time to slow things down a little bit,” John says, and Yuuri Katsuki, Lifelong Atheist But Not An Asshole About It, actually crosses himself. “This song is called ‘Slow Dancing in a Burning Room.’”

Yuuri is high as a kite but he’s pretty sure that he hears Victor whisper “Oh, _no..._ ” under his breath.

“ _It's not a silly little moment, it's not the storm before the calm,”_ John sings. Yuuri feels Victor’s shoulder tremble beside his own. He’s probably imagining things, though. The brownies (and the gummy bears, and the joints) have kicked in fully, so Victor’s probably on a journey; Yuuri certainly is.

“ _This is the deep and dying breath of this love that we've been working on,”_ John croons, and there it is again, that shake of the shoulders, almost like— _oh my god is Victor crying?_

Fuck. Um. Yuuri freezes, mouth agape, his surroundings forgotten as he watches Victor sniff and wipe at one eye with the heel of his hand.

 _Oh for fuck’s sake._ He leans over.

“Victor,” he whispers, “are you okay?”

“ _We're going down, and you can see it too...We're going down, and you know that we're doomed,”_ sings John Mayer, like the unhelpful cunt that he is. _“My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room...”_

Victor sniffs again. “Yuuri,” he whispers back, elongating the U in the way that Yuuri knows means _help, please, I’m made of spun sugar and about to be placed in a river by a curious raccoon_ . “I just...” his shoulders shake again. “I l-listened to this song a _lot_ when I was s-seventeen.”

And then he throws his arms around Yuuri and buries his head into Yuuri’s chest, sobbing so hard that he’s trembling all over.

“ _I'll make the most of all the sadness, you'll be a bitch because you can...”_

Victor sniffs so loudly that Yuuri can hear it clearly over the top of the song; and judging from the dirty looks he’s getting from the people in the row below, so can they. Yuuri looks over at the state-named girls—Maryland and Colorado?—with pleading eyes, but they’re both crying too, dabbing gently at smeared mascara and holding hands in that way that straight girls do. _No homo, except maybe when we’re drunk in college one time, enough to feel bold and experimental and then we’ll both marry Chads and not invite each other to the wedding—_

“ _We're going down, and you can see it too,”_ John sings, because if anyone would know about lipstick lesbianism amongst ridiculously named blonde girls it’s John goddamn Mayer, apparently. New York and New Jersey start to sing along with the rest of the chorus. _“We’re going down, and you know that we’re doomed...”_

Yuuri bursts out laughing, burying his face in Victor’s hair to muffle the sound. His shoulders start shaking as he tries to suppress his giggles.

“Oh Yuuri,” he hears Victor mumble into his shirt. “This song makes everyone cry, it’s okay.”

_This is how it starts, Yuuri. You mumble your way out of an awkward situation fairly early into a good relationship and the next thing you know Victor will be walking down the aisle to a song called “Emoji of a Wave.”_

Yuuri’s laughter turns toward the hysterical, and he knows Victor is waiting for an explanation but he’s laughing so hard he can barely breathe, so he lets it go, pulling his phone out of his pocket with his free hand.

 

 

Chris Giacometti  
  
**Yuuri Katsuki (9:33pm):** So. Um. Is he always like this at concerts?  
  
**Chris Giacometti (9:34pm):** :ok_hand:   
  
**Yuuri Katsuki (9:35pm):** WHAT DOES THAT MEAN??  
  
**Chris Giacometti (9:34pm):** :ok_hand::ok_hand::ok_hand::ok_hand:  
  
**Yuuri Katsuki (9:38pm):** Stop sending me tautologies, I’m high enough already  
  
**Chris Giacometti (9:39pm):** Listen if you’re still using the word ‘tautologies’ you are nowhere near high enough  
  
**Yuuri Katsuki (9:40pm):** I googled ‘What to do when your boyfriend cries at a concert’ and I got a result about a completely sober man who cried at a Foo Fighters show but it turned out that his mother had just died, but that was the last part of the headline so I saw the first bit and began laughing and then clicked through and saw that I was laughing at a random guy’s pain and suffering and Victor is STILL FUCKING CRYING IN MY ARMS  
  
**Chris Giacometti (9:41pm):** The. Best. Night. Ever.

**  
(Act V: Encore)**

Yuuri will never forgive Christophe Giacometti.

He is sitting in an arena full of people using their smartphone flashlights like lighters, watching John Mayer sit at an all white piano in front of an all white background and play a song about dinosaurs and planets and pastors. And Yuuri can’t enjoy a single iota of this, the most pretentious thing he’s ever witnessed in his whole life, because he’s too busy panicking over what he’s going to say to Victor after the concert is done.

_Listen, Victor, I need to talk—no._

_Hey, Victor, that concert was great but I—no._

_Ooh, baby, your body is my wonderland, and I know it so confidently that I never have to hear that song again—seriously, Yuuri?_

This is all Chris’ fault. All of it. Everything. Chris is probably in some way responsible for John Mayer’s very existence. If anyone would go back in time and conceive a being like John Mayer, it would be Chris. _And isn’t that a mental image and a half._

Yuuri may never get an erection again.

  
**(Post-Show)**

Yuuri vaguely recalls saying goodbye to Virginia and Dakota, as Victor programmed his number into each of their phones and promised to call them next time they went to a show. Yuuri may or may not have signed Dakota’s ridiculously expensive program like it was a yearbook and he may or may not have written ‘what a long strange trip it’s been’ because the world is harsh and cruel and he is but a collection of atoms arranged into a complete dumbass.

Victor talks excitedly all throughout the train ride home about his favourite parts of the concert, and Yuuri can barely pay attention due to the darkness building up inside his head. Finally, as they’re a block away from the house, he skids to a stop.

“Victor.”

Victor turns around; a street lamp catches the intense blue of his eyes, and he asks “what is it?” so gently that Yuuri nearly loses his nerve.

Deep breath. Another deep breath. Okay, a third deep breath. A fourth. _He’s waiting._

“Victor, I love you but I _hate_ John Mayer,” Yuuri yelps, covering his mouth with his hands as soon as he’s done. But he can feel the surge of word vomit rising, and here it comes. “I mean, okay, I don’t hate him. He’s fine. He’s a good guitarist. But holy shit Victor I just wanted to be home with you playing video games or at the San Fermin concert where Ellis could sign our vinyl record and we could add it to the collection. I don’t want you to walk down the aisle to a John Mayer song when we get married. I don’t want one playing whenever we have sex. I _really like_ having sex with you and I can’t think of a better way to ruin it than with the whitest bread of singers. Oh god and also if you bring John Mayer to my dad’s deathbed I will leave you instantly.”

There. He’s said it. Relationship over. Victor’s staring at him, open-mouthed, shocked into silence, and for a second Yuuri wonders if maybe weed has been the devil’s lettuce of legend all along and he’s actually hallucinating like they always warned him about in school.

 _Oh, god, Victor, just break up with me and get it over with already, I’ve offered myself up like a goddamn Christmas ham, just take the shot._ Yuuri holds his breath, waiting for the words.

Instead he’s swept up into a hug so tight that it forces all the air out of his lungs with one undignified squeak.

“V-Victor?”

Victor eases up on the hug but keeps his arms wrapped around Yuuri, pressing kiss after kiss to his mouth. As breakups go, this is by far the strangest one Yuuri’s ever experienced.

“Um, Victor,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Is every—”

“—You love me?!” Victor exclaims breathlessly, resting his forehead against Yuuri’s, and Yuuri does a quick mental rewind and—oh. Yeah. They haven’t said it yet. Yuuri just dropped the L-word in the most hideously embarrassing way possible.

Welp. Nothing to do now but lean into it. He nods.

“Yes. I do. I intensely dislike John Mayer concerts but I’m head over heels in love with you, you dork.”

The brightness of Victor’s smile could blot out the sun. “I love you too,” he grins. “Oh my god, this is the _best_ way to end tonight. I’m going to bring you to John Mayer concerts every year to celebrate this moment.”

Yuuri’s heart plunges to his toes. “I—”

Victor cracks up laughing so hard that he has to sit down on the sidewalk, and pulls Yuuri down to sit next to him, curling an arm around his shoulders.

“S-sorry,” he giggles. “I couldn’t resist.”

Yuuri tries to force a pout. “Can I take back my declaration of love?”

“Nope.”

“Even if I cite an irreconcilably awful sense of humour as a reason?”

Victor kisses the tip of his nose. “Final sale,” he coos. “You’re stuck with me.”

Yuuri sighs dramatically, resting his head on Victor’s shoulder. “Fiiiiine,” he exclaims, entwining Victor's fingers with his own. “I guess I can deal with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're giggling, consider leaving me a comment to tell me so! I am deeply mired in grad school hell and feedback on fics gives me joyful energy. <3 <3 
> 
> I am also on [Tumblr](http://iwritevictuuri.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/iwritevictuuri), if you'd like to support me or follow me that way. 
> 
> The iOS templates and the emoji coding comes from [ this very helpful document](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722).


End file.
